


baptism

by Seventysixtyniner



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Kind of an au?, M/M, Religious Imagery, i was TRIPPING when i wrote this lol, no explicit sex but very suggestive undertones lol, warning that blood comes out of nick's eyes but the story's not violent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventysixtyniner/pseuds/Seventysixtyniner
Summary: Saul is converted on the road to Damascus.Or, the story of how the Bucks become Broken.
Relationships: Matt Hardy/Matt Jackson, Matt Hardy/Nick Jackson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	baptism

How foolish Damascus had been. He’d come to the paradise of AEW to protect his Bucks, and to return the favor he’d owed them. He’d thought Jericho’s reign of terror was the biggest harm to his disciples, but he’d been fooled. The real danger was right under his nose, within the Elite itself. 

His poor Bucks didn’t seem to realize it, either. They were so innocent, forgiving their Hangman as he tied their noose. That’s why Damascus had summoned the two to his vessel’s compound with the aid of Vanguard 1. He watched them through Vanguard’s mind’s eye as his messenger lowered himself in front of Matt’s front window. How delighted Matt was to see his messenger! He called out to his younger brother, not taking his eyes off of Vanguard. Nick, always the more skeptical of the two, came in, looked up at Vanguard 1 and squinted, as if he still couldn’t quite understand what he was looking at. Nick’s disbelief, his lack of faith, might prove to be an issue in the future. He was quite like the brother of Damascus’ vessel. In a way, having Nick under his tutelage managed made Damascus feel nostalgia. It was hard for a 3,000 being to feel anything sentimental, but his Bucks brought it out of him. 

Vanguard hovered to the Buck’s car and waited for them to follow. A proud smile came to Damascus’ face as they seamlessly got the message. 

~~~~ 

Damascus stood by the door of his training facility and ushered his Bucks inside. The pair looked around, examining the dilapidated ceiling and wooden panels on the walls. The floor was littered with hay, and there were bundles of it in the back corner, behind an old piano that the Bucks didn’t even want to begin to ask about. In the center was a rusty wrestling ring. It had no turn buckles in the corners; though two had torn foam caught in the metal loops, suggesting that pads had one been fastened there. Matt and Nick tread lightly, as though with each step they feared they were intruding. Matt’s posture was particularly notable. He seemed tense. Damascus silently walked up to his older disciple. He brushed the back of his index finger to the small of Matt’s spine, sensing a tension there. Matt all but jumped out of his skin. 

“Why are you flinching, Matt? Do you not trust me, or the hands of my vessel?” 

Matt’s eyes lowered as he apologized, “I do, I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. Let me see what’s ailing you.” 

Matt nodded, though Damascus could see the fear thinly veiled behind the gesture. He set one hand one Matt’s stomach where he could feel his disciple take long, shaky breaths against his palm. Damascus’ other hand pressed to Matt’s back. He waited for his disciple to relax in his arms before pressing his pointer and middle finger to the knot of strained muscle in Matt’s back. A loud, terrified yelp echoed through the barn as Matt’s hands came to clutch at the firm arm in front of him.

“ _ Sshh _ , my lamb. I’m sorry,” Damascus whispered as he continued to dig his fingers into Matt’s flesh, making his disciple sob against him. 

Nick soon pried Damascus’ hand away, and glared up at Damascus as he pulled his brother into the shelter of his arms. “What the hell was that, are you crazy?!” 

Damascus pressed a hand to his own chest as he looked down on his disciples. “Bucks of Youth, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t realize the extent of your pain.” He gestured to Matt, who was now looking up at Damascus with terror, mixed with an indescribable awe. 

“Do you not see the burden being in the Elite is causing you? It is tearing you apart. Your hearts are being tortured, and your bodies will soon collapse under the strain.”

The pair stared wordlessly at the being in front of them, unsure of what to do next. Damascus sensed their worry, and continued, “Matt, the pain in your back has been given to you by the Hangman, by Kenny the Final, and Cody Rhodes. They force their burdens onto the two of you. Your pain is a manifestation of all that they’ve put you through.”

Matt shook his head, though Damascus could see in his eyes a desire to believe. Matt was unhappy with the Elite. And that was inevitable, Damascus knew, after all that had happened since the Revolution, since the Cruise of Jericho. Damascus mused that their unhappiness ran much deeper than that. 

The Hangman was a murderer, and the poor Elite were so forgiving of him. They welcomed him back each time with open arms, only to be hurt again. The Bucks bore the brunt of the Hangman’s wrath, and Kenny was never the strong leader the Bucks believed him to be. They loved him endlessly, despite how Kenny had failed his disciples time and time again. It was better that Damascus took them in, for their own safety. 

“You could be so much more than this,” Damascus urged, taking a step toward the pair. Nick took a step back, while Matt stayed in place, looking up at Damascus with the most innocent of curiosities. 

“...How?” Matt asked, his voice barely loud enough to escape his lips. 

“You could be  _ broken _ !” Damascus declared as a dangerous, almost delirious glint came into his eyes. Nick’s hand grabbed at Matt’s wrist, but the older brother stayed put. His soft brown eyes looked into Damascus,’ silently asking a million questions. Damascus answered them by pointing to the ring and walking toward it, ushering for the Bucks to follow. 

Unsurprisingly, Matt was the first to roll under the ropes and join Damascus on the canvas. Nick followed with enough stoicism in his face to let Damascus know that he was only in the ring to protect his brother. Nick’s undying loyalty never failed to make Damascus smile, even if it was sometimes given to men who didn’t deserve it. Nick’s t-shirt, a piece of Kenny Omega merchandise, was evidence enough that Nick had given his loyalty to someone else, before Damascus became incarnate. 

Damascus laid a gentle hand on Matt’s shoulder and softly pushed him aside before taking a step toward the younger Jackson brother. 

“Nick, my beloved, I sense your disbelief in me.” 

Nick gulped, but mustered his bravest face. Damascus found it adorable. 

“There is no need to hide it. I understand. It is not easy to take such a leap of faith as this, to join me in becoming,  _ broken! _ ” The last word Damascus yelled, causing Nick to flinch. 

“But I assure you, my beloved, with me you will find new life; an everlasting peace that can only come from being  _ obsolete _ .” 

Nick, unable to find the words, slowly shook his head and backed away. He looked at the deity in front of him with great suspicion, his eyebrows knitted on his forehead and tightly pursed lips. Damascus clicked his tongue and hung his head. He’d hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this, but it seemed his disciple was lacking in faith. There was only one foreseeable solution. 

Before Nick could react, Damascus’s hands shot over the younger Jackson’s cheeks, gripping his face tightly and bringing him forward. 

“If you cannot trust my word, you may see for yourself,” Damascus mumbled, pressing his forehead to his disciple’s as he exhaled softly, once again giving Nick the gift he’d granted his disciple years ago, before either of the Bucks of Youth knew the name Damascus. 

Nick began to tremble in the larger being’s hold as his eyes rolled back into his skull. In his last conscious act, Nick’s hand came to hold Damascus’ wrist; it was a quiet plea, almost, if only Nick wasn’t too prideful to allow himself to plead. Damascus could sense the worry in Nick’s hand, though. Clairvoyance, as useful a gift as it was, was never too pleasant to experience. It used all of the brain’s power, and left the body exhausted. But Damascus would never give his disciple something too powerful for him to handle. 

Nick began to go limp in Damascus’ hold. The deity laid him down in the corner gently, so that he was seated against the turnbuckles. Nick’s head hung forward, and body continued to tremble, making the ring underneath him rumble ever so quietly; only the whites of the younger Jackson’s eyes were visible, along with some reddening veins. 

Damascus turned to see Matt frozen in place. His expression wasn’t quite horror, but something damn close to it. 

“You… you were doing that to him?” 

“Yes, my love. I knew that the two of you would need help during your time in Japan. The odds were too heavily stacked against you,” Damascus explained as he walked closer to his disciple, who couldn’t seem to look away from his brother. “With me in the flesh, I can now guide you more directly. What Nick is seeing now is a glimpse into our  _ Deletion!  _ of the Elite. The only obstacle in our path now is your need to be  _ broken! _ , my love.” 

Matt gulped, fighting every fiber in his being that was screaming at him to go wake Nick up and drag him the hell out of there. There was something about Damascus that drew him in, like Eve was drawn to the serpent. He looked up at Damascus with a firm gaze. 

“So, how can I become broken?” 

A devilish smile spread across Damascus’ face. He set one hand on Matt’s shoulder while the other reached around his disciple’s head to pull out his hair tie. Matt’s hair fell over his shoulder as the older Jackson stood frozen in place, as if in a trance. 

“You need not do anything but relax, dear Buck,” Damascus cooed as he bent down to pick up his disciple like he was Damascus’ newlywed bride. Matt absentmindedly wrapped his arms around Damascus; he tried his best to obey the deity’s command, taking slow, even breaths and letting his eyes fall shut. 

“I must give you a fair warning, Matt, as I fear this process might be painful.” 

“Just do it,” Matt mumbled, trying not to think too much about what he was getting himself into. 

Damascus smiled softly and pressed a kiss to his disciple’s forehead, before dropping Matt over his knee. The crash of Damascus’ back leg hitting the canvas, along with the cry of terror and pain that tore through Matt’s throat, as the infamous knot of strained muscle above the small of his back collided with the hardness of Damascus’ knee. 

Damascus held his disciple there, one hand planted firmly on Matt’s protruding hip bone and the other around Matt’s throat. He pushed gently downwards, pausing when Matt’s hand frantically began to tap against Damascus’ back. 

“Speak to me, my love,” Damascus urged, not loosening his grip on his disciple. 

“It  _ hurts _ , Damascus, I–“ Matt’s voice failed him as jolts of pain continued to course through his body. His vision began to blur, and he blinked quickly to try to clear it. 

“Do you wish to stop?” Damascus’ voice was gentle. Matt had no doubts that if he wanted this whole thing to be over Damascus would let them leave, no questions asked. But that wasn’t what Matt wanted. He shook his head and let out a shallow, shaky breath.

“Just… just get it over with,” Matt answered, gripping the back of Damascus’ robe in an attempt to ground himself. 

“ _ Wonderful! _ ” Damascus chuckled. His laughter echoed throughout the barn, filling it entirely. He was proud of his disciple’s decision. He stroked Matt’s hair, running his fingers through it as he whispered, “just lie back and think of England,” 

“I don’t think that’s–“ 

Damascus returned his hand to Matt’s throat and pushed downwards again, causing Matt to cut himself off with a loud, choked sob. 

“ _ Ssshh _ , it will be alright,” Damascus assured him, testing Matt’s flexibility by thrusting both his hands downwards once, then again, a little harder. He continued until he had something like a steady pace, continuously attacking the knot of pain in his disciple’s back that had plagued him since he and his brother vowed their allegiance to the Elite. Once that knot was broken, his Bucks would be freed. They would be  _ broken!  _ The very thought made Damascus smile wide at the gasping, hiccuping disciple over his knee. 

“Come, Matt.  _ Break, break, break! _ ” 

Matt was close. He could feel his spine threatening to give way to the pressure thrusting against it; what happened after it did, though, he had no idea. But he felt that he could trust Damascus with his life. He only got that feeling with one other person, and in that moment he felt so far away.

From his vantage point, his head hanging upside down by Damascus’ knee, his hair cascading from his scalp and spilling onto the canvas, he could see Nick. He was still convulsing, though he seemed to have calmed down; his breathing had steadied, and Matt could hear him mumbling incoherently (he’d often done that back in Japan, though the most Matt could ever understand was ‘Cody’ or ‘Kota,’ and even then he could barely distinguish those names from each other). 

Matt’s eyes widened, though, as he saw tears of blood collecting in his eyes and slowly rolling down Nick’s cheeks. He was about to speak up to interrupt Damascus’ work when he felt a particularly hard thrust against his hip and throat, torturously molding his back around Damascus’ knee. Tears soon filled Matt’s vision and spilled, trailing down his forehead and collecting in his hairline. 

“Damascus, I’m—“ 

“You’re doing  _ wonderful!,  _ my love,  _ yes!  _ Just a moment longer…” 

Damascus gave a few final thrusts before a deafening crack echoed throughout the barn, accompanied by broken sobs and howls of pain. 

Damascus cradled his disciple in his arms and set him down on the canvas, taking a moment to wipe away the tears around Matt’s eyes before standing and walking to Nick. His poor disciple; it seemed that so long a vision had taken its toll on Nick’s body; he had two steady streams of blood coming out of his eyes, curling around his cheeks and traveling down his neck. 

Damascus knelt down and pressed his thumb to Nick’s forehead, pulling the younger brother back to the present. Nick looked at Damascus like a deer in headlights, before the sound of Matt’s continued sobs snapped his attention away. He attempted to stand for a second before his quivering legs gave out under him, and he crawled the rest of the way to his brother. 

Nick leaned over Matt, pulling his brother onto his lap and holding his face in his hands. Matt’s cries began to soften as he recognized his brother’s face, and then melted into a quiet laughter, that then grew into an almost sickening cackle. 

“Nick, isn’t this _wonderful_?” Matt asked breathlessly, his voice full of awe. 

“Yes,” Nick answered, retrieving one of his hands to wipe the blood off his face and across the name of Kenny Omega across his t-shirt, “and we’re just getting started.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! U da best.
> 
> Comments/kudos appreciated!!
> 
> also @ aew u dont need to book it like this but PLEASE give us Broken Bucks. For the girls and the gays.


End file.
